Meditation XVII

Nunc Lento Sonitu Dicunt, Morieris

No man is an Iland, intire of itselfe; every man is a peece of the Continent, a part of the maine; if a Clod bee washed away by the Sea, Europe is the lesse, as well as if a Promontorie were, as well as if a Manor of thy friends or of thine owne were; any mans death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankinde; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee. — John Donne

5 Responses to “Meditation XVII”

  1. Flavia Says:

    I’m curious: what makes this a “feminist musing”?

  2. Barbara Says:

    Any reason for using one of my favorite bits of writings, sis?

  3. ancarett Says:

    That’s my category for anything political or philosophical, broadly drawn. I’m thinking of things involving the recent campus tragedies, the implications of the recent SCoTUS decisions and many other problems of a much less impressive scale.

    As Donne reminds us, we may fool ourselves to think that we’re separate from it all, but we aren’t. I thought this passage was resonant for the moment.

  4. Barbara Says:

    Hear hear!

  5. What Now? Says:

    Resonant indeed. Thanks for posting this.